Minutes to Midnight
by Anonamus-A
Summary: The very belated thrid instalment of the Federal Custody series. Chris is being blackmailed, her family threatened. Until she can get leverage on this guy, she has to play by his rules. And every second counts in this race against the clock.
1. Paranoia is a Skill

Summary: The very belated thrid instalment of the Federal Custody series. Chris is being blackmailed, her family threatened. Until she can get leverage on this guy, she has to play by his rules. And every second counts in this race against the clock.

A/N: Inspired by _Leave Out All the Rest _by Linkin Park, named after the album that song is on, Minutes to Midnight.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of White Collar

Chapter 1: Paranoia is a Skill

Have you ever felt like you were being followed? Well, when you've grown up around cons and feds, you probably shouldn't ignore it. Without changing body language, I warned my boyfriend, Drew.

"Don't panic, pretend I said something funny. But I think we've grown a tail." He laughed.

"What are you going to do?" he whispered back. I pulled out my phone, squishing our faces together. As quickly as I could, I took pictures over our shoulders. I scrolled throught them. Only one person was caught, but they were just a blur. Probably male, dark hair, caucasion. Not a lot to go on. Sighing, I stuffed it back in my pocket.

"No luck?" he asked.

"None." He looked at me carefully, trying to read my emotions. Fortunately, I had a perfect poker face, thanks to my dad.

"You gonna tell them?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because, being you, it might not be a coincidence." I rolled my eyes. Oh, law abiding citizens. So naive.

"And worry them out of their minds about something that might be nothing." He gave me a hard stare.

"I'm serious, Chris. I don't want you to get hurt-" I held up a hand to cut him off.

"I've been in plenty of dangerous situatations," I reminded him. "Most of them have been in the last two years alone! I think I can handle a tail."

"Question," he said, holding up his hand like a student in class would. "Why do criminals insist on calling stalkers 'tails?'" Laughing, I smacked him on the arm.

~OoO~

"Where have you been?" Dad asked casually as soon as I walked in. Like every day, I tossed my bag on the couch and started making a sandwich. I shrugged off his question.

"Out," I told him elusively. "Why?"

"The school called... again. Where were you?" I sighed. Dad usually wasn't the typical parent, prefering to let me do as I pleased (within reason). Basically, the rules were 'don't do what I wouldn't.' So fighting, violence, and murder were out.

Okay, I'll admit, working as the FBI's paid CI has changed his prospecive a bit. Now, crime was frowned upon. But, there's always loopholes and gray areas. But skipping school now and then? Who cared?

"You know, you've been acting weird lately," I said. "All... parent-y. Should I be concerned?"

"Chris, don't change the subject. Were. Were. You?" This surprised me. There were certain things he never did for the small stuff. Raise his voice, get upset, get disapointed. Peter? Always. Dad? Never. It just wasn't adding up.

"Drew and I just walked around. Went to the park. No biggie." For a moment, I concidered telling him about my possible tail, but decided against it. Maybe I'd just been imagining things. Why worry everyone over something that could be nothing. And, I'm pretty sure I would have been put on a tight leash.

I noticed his face. He was biting his lip. It was clear something was bothering him, but what? He couldn't be this upset about me ditching school. He didn't even graduate, for crying out loud!

"Dad, what's up?" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. I sat down, sandwich forgotten.

"Remember the case Peter and I had been working for the past couple of weeks?" he asked. I nodded. A series of break-ins to upper-class, ritz-y homes where lots of old and valuble things were stolen. Paintings, jewlery, pottery. You name it, if it's got a heafty price tag, the thief probably swiped it. Quite sloppily, I might add.

"Yeah. What about it?"

"Well, we caught the crook," he told me. Why would that have him so upset.

"Was it someone we know?" I asked. He shook his head. I was instantly relieved.

"It was a kid," he explained. "She was a runaway, but needed some cash. She told us about a man who had her steal things for him, so she got a cut."

"He used her so he wouldn't get busted pulling the jobs," I realized. "Genius..."

"Chris, you're not getting the point," he snapped. "She was you!" My eyes went wide.

"I'm confused." He sighed.

"Seventeen, smart, witty. She wasn't afraid of anything we threw at her. When we were interogating her, I kept thinking, 'that's exactly what Chris would have said.' I know Peter was thinking the same thing. She was like you in every single way." I was silent. He took this as his invitation to keep going.

"Let's say, for argument's sake, you become a con," he said. "You pull of some jobs under the radar, get some cash, plan your next heist. It goes like this for a while, but then you start attracting some unwanted attention. The feds are on you. From there, you're stuck living like the criminal you are; hiding, sending coded messages, always looking over your shoulder. But, it's too late to change anything. Crime is an addiction, as I'm sure you already realize. It's only a matter of time before you make one slip, one small miscalculation and find yourself in handcuffs.

"Now, they might give that girl we caught a little bit of a break; don't get me wrong, she's still going to prison, but they might have a bit of leniancy because she's a teenage girl living on the streets who was tricked by a low-life man. You," he said, pointing straight at my forehead, "would not get that luxuary. First, because of me. I'm a convicted felon who commited similar crimes. Second, you would have never been mislead by a strange man on the streets. And last, I'm pretty sure your crimes would be a bit more like mine." He took another pause, taking a deep breath. "Do you understand what I'm telling you?" It was a moment before I responded.

"Yeah, I do," I told him honestly. "But you don't have to worry about that too much." He raised an eyebrown.

"And why's that?"

"I don't find prison orange very flattering."


	2. Unexpected

Chapter 2: Unexpected

The day after that little scene I was sitting on the couch, doing my homework. My iPod was on the table, playing simi-loudly. Dad was still at work, held up searching for the man who allegedly manipulated the girl to commit crimes. She didn't exactly give them a lot to go in, however.

Half way through my Algebra, there was a knock on the door. "'S open!" I called. I heard the door open a moment before Sara came into sight. "Hey."

She smiled. "Where's Neal?" she asked.

"Still at work. Why?" After sitting down, she answered.

"We were going to go out." I nodded. They'd been having a lot of dates the past few months. Ever since we got Turnway and his team, anyway. They really seemed to love each other.

"Okay," she muttered, cutting into my thoughts, "what the hell ish that?" It took me a second to realize she was refering to my music. I picked up my iPod.

"My music?" She looked at it with much distaste.

"Music is a loose discription," she muttered. It took a bit of effort not to start glaring at her.

"Sick Puppies is amazing," I protested. Her expression was one of pure disbelief.

"You listen to a band called _Sick Puppies_?" I nodded once. "Could you just turn it off or something?" Rolling my eyes, I did so.

"You seem a bit grouchy," I pointed out. She sighed.

"Sorry. Neal said we needed to talk about something serious and I have no idea what." I understood why she would be keyed up, but there was no reason to take it out on me (or Sick Puppies). After that, we sat in silence for a while. "So... how's school?"

"Eh, you know. Boring. How's work?"

"Same as ever." More silence. "Are you still dating Drew?" she asked after a few minutes.

"Yeah." Finally, the door opened again and Dad walked in. He smiled at Sara when he saw her.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," he apologized. She smiled back.

"Not a problem."

"Just give me a bit to shower and change," he said, already heading to the back hall.

"Take your time," Sara told him. Twenty minutes later, he returned.

"Ready?" He asked. Smiling, she stood.

"Yep." His next words were addressed to me.

"Stay out of trouble."

"Easier said than done," I muttered joking my. This got the 'not funny' look in return.

"And no commiting felonies while I'm gone." That one was a joke, of course, but it wasn't completly impossible.

"Killjoy." Smiling, he and Sara left. I was alone once more and able to blast Sick Puppies as loud as I wanted.

~OoO~

It was almost there hours before anything happened. My phone buzzed, as it did when I got a new text. Curious, I opened the message.

_Can you hear the bells? Don't understand? Don't worry, you will._

I stared at it blankly. It was from an unknown sender. Maybe a wrong number? Something in my gut told me otherwise. It was just too cryptic, too mysterious. But who sent it? Quickly, I jotted down the number before dialing it. Straight to voice mail. Sighing, I punched in a different one.

"Moz," I said when the line connected, "can you do me a favor?"

"_That depends on what it is_."

"I need you to trace a number for me."

"_Shoot_," he agreed. I read the number aloud. "_I'll let you know when I get something_."

"Thanks, Moz." The line went dead. I sat in silence for a while. The clock said it was only ten thirty, but I was beat. After packing up my stuff, I went down to my room and changed for bed. Almost instantly, I was asleep.

The next thing I knew, my phone was buzzing again. Groggy, I opened the message.

_Meet me for lunch? _This confused me. Who would ask to meet for lunch in the middle of the night? Then I noticed that the sender was Drew. And it was a little after eleven o'clock A.M.

_Sure. Same time, same place? _The answer came a few minutes later.

_See you then._ Groaning, I got out of bed and picked out an outfit. My shower woke me up more. Feeling better, I walked up to Dad's room. He was at the table, eating a sandwich and chips. I grabbed a handful of the latter off his plate.

"You're welcome," he muttered as I sat down.

"Thanks."

"Sleep well?" I shrugged. "I've got to tell you something."

"What?" He paused.

"This is going to be a shock and I probably should have told you before, but..." This didn't sound good.

"What did you do?" I asked accusingly. He gave me his famous grin. _Yep,_ I thought, _he's going back to prison for this._

"Last night," he said slowly, "I asked Sara if she would marry me." The chips fell from my hand. I knew my eyes must have been bugged out, my chin on the table. "And she said yes."

I was absolutely speechless. "Dad... that's... that's... God, damn."

"Chris," he scolded, but I ignored him like always. But something in the back of my mind started nagging me.

_Can you hear the bells? Don't understand? Don't worry, you will._ No. It just wasn't possible.

"Hey," I said slowly, "I gotta go. Drew wanted to meet for lunch." Before he could say anything, I was gone.

I didn't care that I was twenty minutes early, I just had to get out. When Drew finally got there we ordered lunch. He noticed how distracted I was, but didn't press.

I about peed my pants when my phone went off again, but it was just Moz.

_Phone untraceable. Burner. Sorry._ I swallowed. Drew realized something was seriously wrong and couldn't just leave it be.

"Chris, what's going on?" Under the table, I typed a message on my phone before passing it to him. _I think I'm being stalked._


	3. Dinner

A/N: Kay, so I finished my House of Anubis story, so I should have time for this one. Sorry it's been a while though. Hope you like it. -A

Chapter 3: Dinner

"You should tell your dad and Peter," Drew said a few moments later. I just stared at him, realizing he was serious.

"Why would I do that?" His eyes went wide.

"Because you could be in danger." I rolled my eyes. "Seriously, Chris. There's a point when you can't just keep your secrets. I think we can safely say you've reached that point." When I didn't reply, he kept going. "Why are you so against this?"

"Because it could easilly be nothing. Maybe I'm just being paranoid." He gave me the look that said 'you can do better than that.' I sighed. "I'm not going to tell them until something happens."

"Like you being killed?" I looked away. "If you won't tell them, I will." That was like a slap in the face.

"Do it and die," I threatened. He didn't back down.

"That's a risk I'm willing to take." I sighed again.

"Look," I said, "I will tell them, but not until I'm sure. Okay?" After a moment, he nodded.

"Fine, but I'm holding you to that."

~OoO~

I walked in slowly, but Dad was gone. No doubt, I would be pelted with questions the second he got back, but I didn't care. I had time to think of an excuse, hopefully. But now? Sleep was on the top of my list. For some reason, I was suddenly extremely tired. So, I plopped down on the couch and closed my eyes.

When I finally opened my eyes again, afternoon light filtered in. A quick look at my clock told me it was five-thirty. Groaning, I stood to go find food. A sandwich and chips.

As I ate, my phone rang. The caller ID said Burke Home. El. I answered it and was greeted my a cheerful 'Mrs. Suit.'

"Hey, Chris."

"Hey."

"Have you heard the news?" For a second, I was confused. Then I remembered.

"'Bout Dad and Sara?" I asked.

"Yeah. I was going to invite everyone over tonight. You know, a nice dinner." I smiled.

"Sounds great."

"Feel free to invite Drew," she told me, which meant Drew was coming whether he wanted to or not.

"Will do," I promised, making my voice much more enthusiastic than I felt. She bought it.

"See you at eight?"

"I'll be there."

~OoO~

The door opened and we were ushered in. Sara, Moz, Diana, and Jones were already there. Looks like we were the last to arive.

"Just in time," El said as she closed the door. I patted Satchmo on the head as we joined the others. Drew followed me, but I knew he was still irritated at me. But I held my ground. I knew my family better than him and knew what they need to know and didn't. He would just have to deal with that.

We talked casually with everyone. Admittably, the ring Dad gave Sara was beautiful, but I just couldn't be excited. My heart wasn't in it. And Dad, Peter, and El could tell. The others didn't know my quite as well, so my mask worked well. I knew what to expect when the party was over.

Finally, dinner was ready and we could eat. I picked at it, my mind elsewhere. Then, when my phone buzzed, I about jumped out of my chair. When I saw that it was the unknown number, I hit ignore and put it back in my bag. Drew gave me a pointed look, but I just shook my head discretly.

The exchange didn't go unnoticed by Dad and Peter, who also shared a look. I did my best to ignore them. Until my phone buzzed again. And again. And again. Finally, frustrated, I turned it off and threw it back in my bag angryly. Now everyone was staring at me.

"It's just someone who won't take a hint," I said vaguly, but my frustration showed my my voice. Drew raised an eyebrow, but I ignored him.

"Same someone you were telling me about today?" he asked.

"Yep."

"Who are we talking about?" El asked. I looked at Drew, as if daring him to say something. He looked nervously at his plate.

"Someone from school," I lied smoothly. "I told him I wasn't interested, but he won't leave me alone." I don't think they bought it, but they didn't say anything. I knew I couldn't avoid this forever, though.


	4. Something Wicked This Way Comes

Chapter 4

Something Wicked This Way Comes

"Chris, we need to talk about this," Dad said firmly as we walked in. I rolled my eyes as I threw my bag on the couch.

"Not really," I argued.

"Tell me what's wrong," he pressed. I sighed. What did he want me to say? That I think I have a stalker even though there's no proof, just a couple texts that could have come from anyone for any reason? Not likely.

"There's nothing wrong!" I could tell he saw through that. It took a lot to unhinge me and he knew that better than anyone. And I was definately unhinged.

"Is this about me and Sara?" Typical parent. Thinking the teenage daughter is upset by the thought of a step-mom.

"Not at all." He waited for more. "Really, I think it's great. I'm _happy_!" He sat down, running a hand through his hair.

"Then what?"

"Then nothing! I've just got a lot going on. Stress." I wasn't too sure if he was convinced, but he nodded.

"Okay. But you know you can tell me. Whatever it is. I won't be mad." God, what did he think I did? Shaking my head, I grabbed my purse and headed to my room. After changing into my pajamas, I laid in my bed and stared at my phone. Do I read the texts? Do I read them? Of course I freaking read them!

_Having fun with your family? How sweet. _

_Everyone looks so happy. Keep that in mind._

_Uh-oh. Boyfriend doesn't trust you. Too bad._

_Smart of you to keep silent. I would hate for something... regretable to happen. _

I shuddered and dropped my phone on the ground. I should tell. I promised that to Drew. But the last text stuck in my brain. That was a threat. And I wouldn't risk anything. I would wait and see what this creep wanted.

~OoO~

Needless to say, I didn't sleep well that night. I was too keyed up. So, when I finally got up, I was still tired and freaked and in a general bad mood. And it was Monday. Time to get ready for school.

After dressing, I headed upstairs. Dad made eggs which I took gratefully. He probably noticed I was out of it, but didn't say anything. After I ate, it was time to leave.

At school, I met up with Drew, Sam, Dani, and Gia. Drew gave me a look that said 'are you going to tell me?' but I ignored him. But there was no way he was letting this die. God, why did people have to care about me?

The day passed slowly and I had absolutely no idea what we learned. Honestly, I would figure it out without the teacher's help. My mind was on the text messages.

Speak of the devil... my phone vibrated in my pocket. Biting my lip, I pulled it out. Mrs. Pullson, the Biology teacher, was still babbling on about evoloution or monkeys or something like that. I read the text.

_4:30 Centeral Park. Be there._

It was the same sender as all the others. Fighing to keep my cool, I put my phone away. I shouldn't go, but it sounding like there was a missing 'or else.' I felt like I didn't have much of a choice.

I would go, but I would be careful. Central Park has people. If I run into danger, scream and run. I'm fast. I out ran museam security guards. I'm crafty. After out running them, I jumped from a second story roof to another almost six feet away. I'd be fine. I hoped.

~OoO~

It was almost five and no one was there. I was beginning to think someone was just messing with me. That seemed like the only plausable explaination. I watched everyone who went passed. Parents with small children. Old couples. Joggers. Business men on their phones. Teens doing whatever. People walking dogs.

Five-thirty. Still nothing. Just as I stood up, my phone buzzed. Sighing, I pulled it out and read the text. It was an adress.

_Be there by six_. Gah! I wasn't going all over New York! Then I got another text. _Well, get a move on._ I sighed. I wasn't getting out of this. I was in deep crap.


	5. The Deal

A/N: Sorry it's short. I'll try to write more soon and hopefully it will pick up... Hope you like it. -A

Chapter 5: The Deal

You know what I hate about mysterious text messages from persons unknown? I have a history of running into trouble because of the meet with said person. It's not always them that's the danger, but I definately wouldn't have been where I was without them. And where did this mysterious text message from a person unknown take me? An old, rundown warehouse. Yeah, I felt _so _safe.

Still I walked in at five fifty-five, but no one else was there. I was certain someone was messing with me now. And then a door slammed, making me jump. I was on high alert, hand gripping the pepper spray in my hoodie pocket. Ever since we stopped Turnway's crime ring, I'd taken to carrying it around. Just to be safe. Then again, a person living in New York should have at least a thing of pepper spray. God knows there's enough creeps in the city.

A man walked forward, not even bothering to keep his face hidden. He wasn't famliar, but he looked casual as if he'd known me my entire life. He carried a folder, but I couldn't tell what was in it.

"Glad you could make it, Christeen." I narrowed my eyes.

"How do you know my name? How do you know anything about me?" He smiled, but it looked more taunting than cheerful. In one motion, he pulled a paper out of the folder. I realized it was my birth certificate. I didn't say anything.

"You'll find I know quite a lot about you, _Chris_." I waited, knowing he would go on. "And I know quite a lot about your father."

"What's he have to do with this?"

"Not a lot," the man admitted. "Anyway, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Harold Deerling."

"What do you want?" I asked.

"I want to offer you a deal." Again, I remained silent. "No, I want you to work for me."

"Whatever you want me to do, I'm not interested," I told him firmly. He pulled the other papers out of the folders and handed them to me. My breath caught in my throat. Dad, Peter, El, Moz, Drew, Sara, June, Gia, Dani, Sam. All of them had a red sniper dot on their backs. All of them were dated some time in the past week. I tooks a deep breath. "What do you want me to do?" My voice was small.

He told me all about the job. I was to steal for him. Whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Or else someone I loved would die. It was that simple. As he spoke something clicked, but I didn't voice it. The man Dad and Peter were looking for, the one who made the girl steal for him. This was him. Would I end up like her?

I couldn't do what he said. I refused to disappoint Dad and Peter like that. But what if I didn't? How many funerals would it take before I bowed under the pressure? I knew he wasn't bluffing. He would kill them if that's what it took to get me. Kill them and not lose any sleep over it.

"Do you agree?" he asked. I said nothing, just looked away. He took that as a yes. "You may go." But as I turned to leave, he added one last thing that made my blood run cold.

"If you tell anybody, it's game over. For all of you."


	6. Words Left Unsaid

A/N: Sorry it's been a while. Lot going on. I probably won't be writing much here in the next couple of weeks what with the OGT's (stupid standardized tests we have to pass to graduate, incase you don't know). Anyway, hope you like it. -A

Chapter 6: Words Left Unsaid

Should I have told Dad what happened? Yeah. Should I have told Peter? Hell yes. Did I? Not even a little. I wanted to. I was terrified, but I worried more for everyone else's lives more. No way would I risk telling.

It was hard facing Dad knowing there'd been a sniper dot on his back that he couldn't know about. Unconsiously, I came up with a list of potentially safe places to talk. So far I had three: the FBI, restrooms, and any place inhabited by Mozzie.

I was very aware of Dad watching me every once in a while. So far, he had yet to say anything, but ever since we had dinner at the Burke's, I think he'd been worried about me. God, did he make me feel guilty. Well, I'm sure soon, I would be. That's beside the point.

"Hey," Dad greeted as he walked in after work the next day. I muttered something in return. "Have a good day?"

"Same as ever," I told him. He nodded, sitting next to me on the couch. There was an awkward silence.

"You don't have plans tonight, do you?" he asked suddenly. Raising an eyebrow, I shook my head. "Good. Sara, Peter, and El are coming over for dinner." I nodded.

"Why?"

"Well, El's doing our wedding, so we figured we might as well have a little get together." I nodded again, not sure how I was supposed to respond. It always seemed to go right back to the wedding eventually. I was sure he noticed my lack of enthusiasm, but didn't say anything on the matter.

About an hour later, Sara came in. She had one of her long dresses on, as usual. A small bag was clutched in her hands in front of her. Dad walked up to greet her like normal, kissing her. I rolled my eyes, focusing on my impossible Spanish homework. He muttered something I didn't catch and disappeared into the back hall. Sara sat next to me.

She read over my shoulder- which annoyed me greatly- but I ignored her. She pointed to question five. "I think you mean 'Una gran ola se estrello contra la lancha y el Tio Jorge se cayo,'" she told me. I looked over my answer and scrubbed out a part of it. I used the wrong form of 'wave' and incorrectly congegated 'estrellar.'

After a moment, she spoke again. "Chris, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," I said, not really paying much attention.

"Would you help Neal and I with the wedding details?" That stopped me short. Dad had said nothing about me helping, and it was his and Sara's wedding anyway.

"You want me to help," I repeated. She smiled, nodding. "Um... sure. But why?"

"Well, you're part of this too. It affects you as much as us. And we want you to be a part of it." I didn't say anything. I didn't know _what _to say. No matter how much I tried to put it out of my mind, I just couldn't seem to wrap my mind around the wedding. Sara was great, don't get me wrong. And absolutely perfect for Dad, but... it was just... hard to swallow. She seemed aware of my struggle. "You don't want us to get married."

It wasn't a question. It was assured in her mind. For reasons beyond me, tears started welling up in my eyes. "That's not true!" I protested. "I'm happy for you." Yeah. I'm so sure that was convincing. She wrapped an arm around me.

"Then what's the problem?" she asked softly. _Everything! _I yelled inside my head. The fact that if I'm not careful, everyone will be dead. The fact that my world is crubling all around me.

"I don't know," I lied. I could have taken that time to come clean, but that would accomplish nothing but signing their death certificates. "I've just been under a lot of stress." She nodded sympatheticly.

"I know what you're going through," she told me, even though she didn't. "It'll get better." _For your sake- and everyone else's- I hope you're right. _


	7. Details

Chapter 7: Details

Dinner was uneventful. Dad, Sara, Peter, and El talked about various things I didn't care about. The only mildly interesting things were cases, and even they failed to capture my attention for long. After dinner, since Dad, Sara, and El were working on wedding details, I decided to help Peter with the dishes he offered to wash. I played my iPod quitetly. Occasionally, Sara or Dad would ask me my opinion on this or that, but I brushed it off by saying that I liked what they were leaning towards. They didn't seem to notice, but Peter did.

"You're being awfully helpful," he whispered sarcasticly. I shrugged.

"It's their wedding." He just smiled as he dried a plate. Finally, the dishes were all washed and we had no choice but to sit back down at the table. I kept my iPod on, but it was hardly audible. No one said anything.

"Were you guys thinking DJ or live music?" El asked. They looked at each other.

"Live music," they told her together. El smiled, jotting something down in her notebook.

"Any specific song you wanted played for you dance?" Both of them shook their heads. "Well, I'm sure the band will find something you like." This put the little bud of an idea in the back of my mind as I strained to hear my music.

El got up, saying something about needing to get something out of the car. Before I really thought about it, I got up with the excuse that my iPod was almost dead and I had to go plug it in. Before she got too far, I stopped El. She listened intently as I told her my idea. When I was done, she smiled.

"I think that might work."

~OoO~

Well, I survived dinner. Unfortunately, that small victory was cut short when my phone buzzed. The same unknown number as before. Sighing, I clicked it open.

_Meet me. Now. Same place._

That was the whole message. Five words. And those five words made my blood run cold. I knew I had no choice. So, I snuck out. I hadn't really had to do that much since I started living with Dad. But, it was still as easy as I remembered it. And if anyone knew, they didn't care. As slow as I dared, I made my way for the address I'd been to before.

I hesitated going in. After building up my courage, I pushed my way through the door, finding the same man, Mr. Deerling, waiting for me in the dimly lit room. He smiled when I came up to him. I just glared in return, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Hello, Chris."

"What do you want?" I snapped. He sighed, muttering something about being straight to the point. I waited for him to answer my question.

"It's time for your first job." He was expecting me to say something, but I didn't. I made my face unreadable and waited for more. He handed me a folder. I opened it slowly. It was full of building plans marked with camera locations, guard shifts, and lists of paintings. "That is a small gallery, but they have some truly magnificant pieces."

"Which one is the mark?" I asked lamely. He just smiled.

"That, I will leave up to you. This is just to test your compitance. See what painting you would choose, how you would go about the theft."

"Is it a one-man job, or do I have a crew?" He regarded me curiously, so I explained. "I can do it alone, but it's easier with more people."

"Your friends?" he asked warily. I nodded. "I though we talked about this."

"They only know about the heists. Not the man behind them," I promised. "Just three or four; that's all I need." After a moment, he nodded slowly.

"Fine. You can split your cut up between yourself and them." That caught me off guard.

"My cut?" He smiled evilly.

"Yes, Ms. Caffrey. Your cut." I just stared at him, the concept refusing to click in my mind. "You work for me, you get a part of the payout for your services." I wanted to say that I didn't want his money, that he had all of my friends and family staring down the barrel of a gun and I hated him for it. But I didn't.

"When do you want it by?" I asked, voice impassive again.

"That, again, is up to you. Like I said, this is a test." _A test, _I repeated in my mind. _I don't think I'm going to like what happens if I bomb it._


	8. Pretty Please?

Chapter 8: Pretty Please?

I sat in my bed staring at the building plans for the millionth time, willing a plan to smack me in the face. Unfortunately I had no such luck. I sighed, throwing them face-down on the floor. I knew I would figure something out eventually. That's not the part that bothered me. It was assembeling my crew that had me on edge.

Sure, I'd had them help me with some pretty insane stuff in the past (i.e. break into a museum to stop a crime-in-progress), but asking them to help me _commit_ a crime? And not tell them why? I couldn't do that. True, my friends don't exactly ask as many questions as I would, but that doesn't change the risk they would be in. We could be arrested. Or killed... I shuddered at the thought.

What was I thinking, asking if they could help? Well, he didn't say I had to... but could I do it without them and get away scot-free? Not something I would like to find out the hard way... I realized that if I was going to save them from a bullet, I had to put them in front of prison cells.

There was a knock on my door. "'S open," I called. June walked in, smiling.

"Chris, dear, your friends are here." I smiled and thanked her before she walked out. Then I sighed. It was now or never. Shaking my head, I gathered up my stuff and threw it in my bag before heading to Dad's apartment. As expected, all four of them were already gathered at the table.

As slowly as I could without being obvious, I sat at the table. They were all looking at me expectantly. I caught Drew's eyes and he gave me a hard stare. I discretly shook my head. The others noticed, but appearantly they couldn't figure it out.

"What's up, Chris?" Gia asked after a moment of silence. I took a breath.

"Before I tell you, there's something I have to get out of the way." I knew Drew was trying to stare holes into my forhead, but I ignored him. "None of you are in any way obligate to... get involved. You can walk away, no questions asked, no hard feelings. But mum's the word." They all nodded.

"This must be serious," Sam mused.

"It is," I said grimmly. All eyes were on me again. _Tell them! _I commanded myself. _Stop procrastinating. _"I know I've asked you to do some crazy things before, but this is... insane." Probably not the best start...

"What is it?" Dani asked with an evil grin. One look at my expression made the smile slowly fade.

"I want help with a job," I told them bluntly. This, as expected, was met with expressions ranging from shock to disbelief. It was a moment before any of them were capable of coherant speech.

"A job," Drew said slowly, trying to put it together. "Like... a robbery?" I rolled my eyes, but nodded.

"Are you serious?" Gia asked, eyes wide.

"Yeah. Dead serious." Oh, the irony. If only they knew. "Like I said, you can walk away right now. I wouldn't blame you."

"Do you need us there?" Drew asked, determination easily recognizable in his voice.

"It would be easier," I admitted. "But it's possible without."

"Then I'm in," he told me.

"Me too," Gia pitched in instantly. Sam and Dani shot each other a look before nodding.

"Us too." I smiled. My poor, sweet, loyal friends. Then, I was pulled out of my little bubble of thought.

"So, what's the plan?" Dani asked. I opened my mouth to talk, but faltered. The one thing I _didn't _have. The one thing that was most important to their survival.

"I haven't really worked out the finer details," I said elusivly, "but I'll figure it out soon enough. We're not exactly working on a deadline." That was half true. I wasn't given a time frame, but I was afraid that the longer I waited, the more danger I put everyone in. But, hopefully now I would be able to come up with a plan with one less thing to worry about.


	9. How to Rob a Museum

Chapter 9

How to Rob a Museum

After two sleepless night and way more pop than was healthy, I thought I had a plan. It was quite similar to when we broke into the the gallery a few months before, but with some small alterations. Like the fact that we would be stealing, not preventing such an act.

On the downside, undesireable people (i.e Peter, El, and Sara) have been haning around lately, so couldn't exactly talk openly about things. Drew's was out because his parents weren't exactly aware of anything criminally wrong with me. Couldn't use Gia's place because her brother, Geo, got out of the game and there's no way he'd understand this. Sam and Dani's places were also no-goes for similar reasons to Drew's.

One of Mozzie's safe houses would have been ideal, but I was afraid he would unintentionally tip Dad off, and that's one shit-storm I _didn't _need. Anywhere public wouldn't work because anyone could overhear. And there was _no way_ I was taking any of them to the warehouse.

As I thought of my hopeless situation, an old memory hit me out of nowhere. When I say old, I mean _old._ I think it's from when I was eight. After springing me from Mom's place, Dad took me to his. An old, ratty appartment with an odd assortment of things I couldn't recall. And, if memory served, it wasn't too far...

~OoO~

I walked slowly into the lobby of the ratty appartment building. Yup, this is it. A balding man with a pot belly looked up from a newspaper. He regarded me curiously for a moment before something seemed to click in his mind.

"You're not a Caffrey, are you?" I smiled. He remembered. The smiled seemed to confirm this and he smiled in return. "Neal's kid?"

"In the flesh," I said, leaning on the counter.

"How's the old man?" he asked conversationally.

"Good," I told him honestly.

"Outta jail then?" I nodded. "Good for him. He back in the game?"

"Nope," I said, my 'P' making the _pop _sound. He smiled again. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again.

"How's Kate?" I frowned.

"She passed away," I said softly. He seemed genuinely upset by the news.

"And Moz?" he dared to ask.

"Same as ever," I muttered, making him laugh. This chit-chat was starting to lose my attention. Thankfully, he seemed to realize that I probably wasn't there to talk.

"What can I do for you?" I answered his question with a question.

"Is there anyone living in the old appartment these days?" He shook his head.

"Could never rent it out. Anyone interested asked why the last tenant left, and I was obligated to tell them the truth; the last tenant was arrested. No one wanted it after that. Why?" I smiled again.

Well, me and some friends are planning a little... mischief and we needed some place we could go without the adults overhearing..."

"Say no more," he told me. After typing something in the computer, he handed me an old key. "Don't worry about rent or anything. Happy to help."

"Thanks," I said before walking out. Mission accomplished.

~OoO~

"What is this place, Chris?" four voices asked as I walked in. I smiled as I let them take in the old appartment.

"My dad's old place. Before he was arrested the first time." A rickety table with precarious-looking chairs still sat in the middle of the room. After turning on the lights, a few bare bulbs that burned dimly, we all headed to the table. I spread her papers out on the table as the others gathered around.

After everyone was settled, I began. "Okay, the plan is simple," I told them. "It's pretty similar to the plan we used last time, but I've changed some important things." From there, I explained. We were going to use the same hacking trick, but there was a catch. See, there was only a three minute gap between the guards changing shifts. If she could, Sam would need to feed the pre-recorded to the control room and watch their actual live feed. This would be important because she would have to tell us if a guard was getting close and we needed to find a different route. But that was child's play.

The hard part would be getting the painting. There were sensors all along the frames of every painting, but none on the paintings themselves. The one I chose, while it wasn't the best mark, it was worth a pretty penny. We would have to cut the painting from the frame without damaging more than needed or setting off a sensor. Easier said than done. Then we had to get out before we were discovered.

As I told them the plan, Sam looked over the security details. After I was done relating my plan, she held up a hand. "Sam?"

"Um, question. By the looks of this, you need a security code to even think about hacking the database. How are we going to get it?"

"Answer. Their security system is all connected, so only need to know one access code to get in and hack the control room. I think we could get it with a simple con."

"Blind Man's Bluff?" Gia asked. I wrinkled my nose, thinking.

"Too played out," I decided. "Dad and Moz have been using that for years and it was never my style. Besides, if I asked if I could borrow Satch from El, she and Peter would know something was up." Drew sighed.

"Someone should write an English-to-Criminal dictionary." I smiled, but otherwise ignored the comment.

"Around the World?" Dani offered. Tempting... but too risky.

"No, that one can easily go bad. I mean, RC Helicopters aren't exactly discrete." We thought for a while.

"I got it!" Gia said happily. We all turned our attention to her. "Amber Alert." I considered this. An Amber Alert is simplistic in theory, but pulling it off is tricky. Generally, the one pulling the con is a parent or babysitter who takes the kid to the museum for the day. The kid's gotta be no younger than six and no older than ten, or it wouldn't have the same affect. You get the kid to wander out of the room when you're 'not looking' and they got to another person in the next room. Then, you panic until someone, ususally the curator or security offers their help. This usually takes you to either the back room where you tell them 'everything' or to the control room where they try to find where the kid went. In most places, both need the security code to get in. When whoever punches it in, you pay attention so you have it for later.

"That could work," I agreed.

"But who are we gonna use?" Dani asked. I smiled.

"Drew, do you mind if I borrow your little sister?"


	10. Access Granted

Chapter 10: Access Granted

"I don't like this," Drew said anxiously as we made our way to the museum. I felt really bad bringing a kid into this, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I don't like this any more than you do." He believed it, which is good considering the fact that it was true.

"Can you at least tell me why you decided to pull this job?" I sighed.

"No." This caught him off guard.

"No?" I nodded. "Exactly why not?" How did I know he was going to be difficult? Oh yeah, he's Drew. Enough said.

"Look, I have a good reason, but I'm... not at liberty to give you any details." Instantly, I knew that was the wrong thing to say. I could almost see the connections froming in his brain.

"Is this about-"

"No!" I told him too quickly. I hissed in irritation. "It's not that, but I am doing this for someone. Please, you just have to trust me." My voice was pleading, which he noticed.

"Fine, I won't ask questions. I'll help you. I'll trust you. But I will find out eventually," he grumbled. Thankfully his eight sister, Annie, was blissfully oblivious to our conversation. She was the most adorable thing. Little black piggy tails and bright blue eyes. Even small dimple when she smiled. I loved her.

It wasn't long before we were in place. Annie (hopefully) knew the plan. She would wander into one of the three rooms where Dani, Gia, or Sam was. Of course, Drew would be watching her carefully incase some perv was lurking around. We were looking at some of the art and I turned away into the pack of kid stuff I packed at Drew's house.

"Go, Annie," I whispered before getting on my knees with my back away from her (but not too much to be obvious). Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw her totter away. A moment later, my phone buzzed, confirmation that one of the others had her. I grabbed a juice box and turned to where Annie had formerly been standing. Showtime!

With my best panicked look, I stood and looked around. "Annie?" I said loudly, spinning around. "ANNIE!" This drew attention. I dropped the juice box, causing it to explode and cascade over my shoes. I ignored it.

"ANNIE!" I called agian. A concerned looking man walked over.

"Is there a problem, Miss?" He asked, careful not to step in the juice.

"Yes there's a freaking problem! I can't find her! She's gone!" I grabbed his shoulders. I must have looked like the poster girl for histaria. "Where is she?" He remained calm, shaking my arms off.

"Where is who?" he asked.

"Annie! I'm babysitting her. I was getting a juice box out and the next thing I knew, she was gone!" My breath was shakey.

"Don't worry," he said soothingly. "She can't have gotten far. We'll find her." I nodded anxiously. "Come with me." I followed, still pretending to be looking for Annie. We came to a door. There was a key pad next to it. Thinking I was completly histaric, he didn't bother sheilding it from my view too much. I got it easily. 142872.

I was lead inside and sat down. Keeping up my facade, I answered all of his questions. When he turned away, I sent a quick signal text to Dani, Gia, and Sam (I didn't check to see who got her). A few moments later, the door opened and a security guard walked in followed by Dani who was holding Annie's hand. I ran over to Annie and hugged her tight. "Good job, honey," I whispered in her ear.

After a few more questions, we were allowed to leave. I did so immediately. A block away, we met up with the others. It was a small victory. There was a moment of silence.

"Who wants ice cream?" I finally asked.


	11. The Score

I'm SOO sorry it's taken so long to get this up. School's been mad what with graduation tests and such, but now it's Spring Break so I should be posting a bit more. No promises though. Hope you like it. -A

Chapter 11: The Score

Two days passed. Drew hardly talked to me, only asking questions when one arised about the plan. I knew he was still steamed about me using his sister. I couldn't blame him; I'd be pissed too. But we were in a time crunch. At midnight, we would strike. Any more time would be risking a lot.

I told Dad I was staying with Gia, whose parents were out of town. I wasn't sure what the others were saying, but I hoped it would work. Getting busted out of bed wouldn't bode to well considering we were becoming criminals. That thought weighed heavily on me. Sure, I'd done some petty stuff (i.e. shoplifting, pickpocketing, ect.) but this was something else entirely. Actually commiting a felony. Becoming what my dad used to be and never wanted me to be. But what choice did I have? None.

I managed to keep Gia from getting suspicious, but the real challenge would be Drew. He was already on to me. So, I put on my best confidant face as we neared the meeting place, a block away from the museum. Gia and I were the last to arive and we were greeted with three nervous smiles.

"Everyone ready?" I asked, handing out the communication devices I 'borrowed' from Moz (I wasn't going to risk stealing from the feds again seeing as how Mozzie couldn't arrest me). They all nodded. I checked my clock a few moments later. "It's time."

We left Sam and Dani (we decided Dani would be in charge of warning us while Sam worked on maintaining our control of the security system), and made our way quickly to the museum. Making sure to stay in the camera blind spots, we went around back.

"Are we good?" I whispered into the mic. A second later, Dani confirmed that we were and I pushed in the security code. There was a soft _beep _and the door unlocked. Not waisting a second, we went in.

"_You have two minuts to get there,_" Dani told us. "_Get there and be quick. You won't beat them, but you can avoid them._" Without a word, we walked quickly and silently. The halls were pitch black, but we knew the way well enough for that not to matter. We made it to the room we needed within the minute.

I held out my hand and Drew gave me his pocket knife. Taking a breath, I walked up to the painting. Drew and Gia kept watch, just in case. I swallowed back my nerves and guilt and began to cut out the painting, careful not to damage it more than I needed or bump the frame. It was slow work, but I didn't dare rush. I couldn't afford to be sloppy. Not now.

"_Guards are back in,_" Dani told me. "_You about done?_"

"Yeah," I breathed. I was on the last side. I now had to hold up the painting (which was half a foot over my head), and cut straight. A moment later, I heard footsteps coming down the hall. "Shit."

"_You better hurry,_" Dani said urgantly. "_You've got company._"

"I _know_," I hissed. Finally, I had the painting cut free. Quickly as I dared, I rolled it up and put it in the painting tube I had. "Which way are they coming from?" I asked.

"_Left._" I motioned the others over. We immediately ran right. But we were too loud. There was a shout as the guard started following us, calling for back up. We took an unschedualed turn.

"Where are we heading, Dani?" I asked.

"_South wing," _she said. "_No exits."_

"Damnit!" Still, I kept running. The footsteps around us were loud. They were closing in. We came to a stop in the south wing. One way in, one way out. And the guards were filing in, making it impossible to use. We retreated against the far wall. Thankfully, the shadows masked our faces.

"Freeze!" one of the guards shouted. Yeah, because we had SO many places we could run. "Put your hands up and get down on your knees." We didn't.

Panicked, I looked around. Moonlight filtered in twenty feet away. A window. An escape. Jail, or attempting to jump through a closed window with guards shooting at us...?

"On three," I breathed to the others, my head motioning to the window. They nodded, understanding. "One... two.. THREE!" We made a break for it. Gun shots rung out, but we didn't stop. Without any hesitation, I launched myself into the window, ducking my head. That didn't stop the shards of glass that exploded around me from cutting through my gloves and slicing any exposed skin.

I hit the ground hard, but kept running. I was aware that the others were running behind me, but I didn't check to see if we were still being followed. "Screw the rendezvous," I said into the mic. "Just get the hell away and I'll call in an hour." After that, we split up.

~OoO~

I was sure I wasn't being tailed. So, I went to the warehouse I'd meet Mr. Deerling at. I pushed my way in, but, much to my surprise, he was sitting there reading the news paper. Hiding my shock, I walked over slowly. He smiled, but I didn't return the gesture. Without a word, I threw the painting tube infront of him and walked out. His voice followed me.

"Good work, Chris. I'll contact you after I fence it and get a new job."


	12. Consequences

A/N: Sorry if this chapter seems a little rushed, but I'm trying to make up for not writing much. Hope you like it anyway. -A

Chapter 12: Consequences

I was in deep shit. My reflection in a storefront window only confirmed this. The glass shards really did a number on my face and arms. There was no hiding this.

But I could lie about it. I thought quickly. What would I say? Mugged? No. Too much police involvement. An accident? That could work. The trick would be making it look convincing.

First, it would have to be somewhere without cameras or witnesses. I would have to be sure the injuries matched the accident. And I would have to act the part. I started walking around, mind reeling.

As I walked, I realized it had been well past an hour and quickly called the others. They all got away and were safe. By the time I'd called them all, I found myself in a park at the top of a large hill. As I stared down at the jagged rocks jutting up from the patchy grass an idea hit me.

"Oh, that could work."

~OoO~

Twenty minutes later, I was down at the bottom of the hill, my clothes covered in dirt, my hair tangled in leaves, and any glass from my cuts burried. Putting on my 'scared and hurt' act, I dialed my dad's number.

"Hello?" he said groggily after three rings.

"Daddy," I said with a sniffle. This sobered him up.

"Chris?" He waited but I didn't say anything. "Where are you?"

"I couldn't sleep so I went for a walk. It was dark... I tripped and... and... and..."

"It's okay," he said soothingly. "Just tell me where you are."

"I don't know!" I wailed.

"It's okay," he repeated. "Stay where you are. I'll find you." After a few more soothing words, he hung up.

I felt really bad. He had to be worried sick. I felt slimy, lying to him like this. Here I was, faking an accident to cover up for a crime. After I'd promised I wouldn't be like he used to be, I was forced to eat my words and break that promise.

I'd been trying to tell myself I was doing it for them. And I was. But all I would have had to do was go alone tonight and get myself caught. Mr. Deerling had completely abandoned the last girl who got caught. She'd told about him and he either didn't know or didn't care. I would have been that simple.

But Dad was right. Crime is an addiction. As much as I hated admitting it to myself, I'd liked what we'd done. It was exciting, an adrinaline rush. And I knew I was already hooked.

The thought brought tears to my eyes. They stung as they fell, but I didn't wipe them away. I just sat in silence and cried. Finally, I wasn't sure how long, I heard my name called.

"Down here," I yelled, my voice cracking. Flashlights trained on me and I saw Dad and Peter running toward me. They helped me up and Dad wrapped me in a hug.

"It's alright," he said. "Everything will be alright." _No, _it thought. _Everything won't be alright. _I sure know how to call it. You know what they say; things have to get worse before they got better. And, boy, did they get worse.


	13. Pay Day

Chapter 13: Pay Day

After getting cleaned up and promising that my days of sneaking out past midnight were over (even though I knew that wouldn't be the case), I was finally allowed to go to bed. So exhausted, I fell asleep instantly. But my dreams were less than restful.

At first, everything was fuzzy. I saw a blue shirt. Red blossomed out of it. I was confused, staring in awe. Then, the picture became crystal clear. It was Dad, dead from a bullet wound in his chest. Then Peter. And El, Mozzie, Sara, June. By this point, I was on my knees, wailing for the images to go away. But they kept coming. As much as I wanted to tear my eyes away, I couldn't. Gia, Dani, Sam, Drew. All gone. All killed because of me.

I woke with a start, a sheen of sweat making my clothes stick to my skin. My breath came in pants and tears still streaming from my eyes stung when they touched the cuts on my face.

I told myself to calm down, that it was just a dream. It was just a nightmare. An image sent from my subconsious to torture me, to fill me with more guilt than I already felt. It wasn't real. But it could so easily happen. That dream was sent from hell itself to remind me that one slip could cost their lives.

~OoO~

I was surprised when I woke up and stumbled into Dad's apartment to find Mozzie, Sara, and Peter already there. Then I looked at the clock and realized it was well after noon. I'd slept more than twelve hours.

"Well," Dad said, amused, "Sleeping Beauty awakens." I ignored him, heading to the fridge. "How do you feel?"

"Like a million bucks," I muttered sarcasticly.

"It's kind of your fault," Peter said. I could hear the smile in his voice and I rolled my eyes.

"I realize that, captain obvious." With that, I pulled a bowl out of the dishwasher (I was pretty sure it was clean) and poured my cereal in. When I sat down, I noticed the case files in front of Dad and Peter. "What's that?"

"New case," Peter told me. "Came in about half an hour before Neal called me to help find you." I knew what that meant. I was already a case on Peter's desk.

"Really?" I asked noncholantly. "What happened?"

"Museum heist," Dad said, looking over the page.

I nodded, feigning ignorance. "What was the take?"

"A painting called The Fallen Archangel," Sara said, showing me a picture of a painting I'd seen too much of for one life time. "Not the best, but it's worth a pretty penny." I nodded slowly.

"How much you got on him?"

"Them," Peter corrected. "There were three." He slid a photo of three dark figures across the table. On the bright side, we were completly unrecognizable. "And not much. That's the only shot we have of them, and we only got it about five seconds before they made a break for it."

"How'd they get away?" Dad, Peter, and Sara smirked.

"She," Dad said, tapping the picture on my face, "jumped through a window." My eyes went wide.

"Guess you're not the only one who had an exciting night," Mozzie said. _Well, _I thought, _I suppose Gia, Dani, Sam, Drew, and the security guards had a pretty exciting night too._

~OoO~

Two days passed and it was Monday. I really didn't feel like facing the others, not yet. I already knew what they would say. Much to my surprise, Dad was already dressed and ready for work.

"Where's the fire?" I asked. He smiled as he faced the mirror, fixing his tie.

"There's a mandatory meeting for all Bureau memebers," he explained as I piled eggs and bacon on my plate. "White Collar, Cyber Crimes, and Organized Crime is today." I grinned.

"Have fun with that." He rolled his eyes, but otherwise ignored the comment. Before he spoke again, he came up behind me and leaned against the counter.

"You won't be able to get ahold of me or Peter most of the day, so if you need anything call El, Sara, June... Moz," he added after a moment's thought. "And stay out of trouble."

"No problems there," I muttered. He grabbed a piece of bacon off my plate, kissed me on top of the head, and left. As I sat and ate, an idea came to mind. It was stupid. Very stupid. But I still wasn't ready to face the others. So, after I ate, I made my way downstairs. After checking that June was already gone, I picked up the home phone.

Slowly, I pressed in the school's number. As I did this, I set up my iPod. I might have 'accidentlly' left the recording on once when Dad called the school when I was sick. I hadn't had the nerve to use it yet because I knew he would kill me if he found out. But that was a risk I was willing to take today.

"Hello," the secretary said. I pressed play.

"Hello, this is Neal Caffery," the recording said. "My daughter, Christeen Caffery is ill and won't be able to come today." Pause.

"Okay, thank you. Have a nice day, sir."

"You too. Good bye." Then I cut the line. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Tomorrow, I would need a note, but that was nothing. Sighing, I ran back upstairs and grabbed my backpack. At least if anyone stopped by they would think I was at school.

~OoO~

I didn't have much money as I'd forgotten to grab some as I'd left, but I had a five tucked in the bottom of my bag. That didn't exactly leave a lot of room for lunch. Around one, my stomach started growling and I knew I needed food. Soon. With my lack of funds, that left one option. Fast food.

Normally, I avoided it because I usually didn't have the stomach for it, but I was a bit desperate. I milled around, looking for something besides McDonalds (I wasn't _that _desperate). Finally, I settled on Taco Bell.

As I ate, I allowed myself to look out the window at the passing cars. I wondered where they were going, who they were. Those people were probably lucky. Their problems probably revolved around work or family. This was one of those times I came from a normal family. A family that wasn't built because of crime.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by a middle-aged woman tapping my shoulder. "Honey," she said, "I think your phone's ringing." Then I realized it was.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said as I pulled it out. It was a text.

_You know where to go._ I sighed and stood up. I'd only eaten about one third of my taco, and my drink was almost completely full. With a shrug, I picked them up after slinging my bag over my shoulders and walked out.

It was only a ten minute walk to the warehouse and I made the walk automatically. I was done with my taco by the time I got there, but still had pleanty of Mtn. Dew. Sighing, I walked in.

As expected, he was waiting. He smiled pleasantly as I crossed over to him. After a few moments of silence, I spoke.

"What do you want?"

"I wanted to tell you that you did a very nice job." I waited, knowing there was more. "It was sloppy, but effective." He held up a newspaper. Eyes wide, I grabbed it.

**Art Theft Ends in a Shower of Bullets and Broken Glass**

_Friday night, a three-man group broke attempted an art theft. Security cameras were tampered with and only one shot of the crimials was obtained, but no faces or defining marks were visible on any of them. The leader, presumably female, made a daring run for a nearby window, which the others followed. Security guards opened fire, but none of the criminals were hit. They got away with a painting called The Fallen Archangel. _

After that, the words started blurring together. I couldn't believe my eyes. We'd made the news. Mr. Deerling chuckled at my expression. But my mind was reeling. He tried speaking, but I didn't hear what he said. Finally, he pressed and envelope into my hands. I took this as a dismissal and left, heading towards my dad's old apartment. As I sat there, I sent a text to the others. _Meet rendezvous point after school._


	14. Ditched

A/N: Kay, so I got some time at the end of History and all throughout Biology and I all but made myself write. Sorry for the long wait. Hope you like it; this is where things start to crumble. -A

Chapter 14: Ditched

I was only there another hour or so before the door opened, letting four familiar faces in. I checked my clock.

"School doesn't let out for another fourty-five minutes," I said. Drew shrugged as they sat down around me.

"Nothing wrong with missing Spanish now and again." Since I'd missed the whole day, I wasn't exactly one to talk. Instead, I just slid them each an envelope.

"How much is this?" Sam asked with wide eyes as she opened hers.

"Five hundred a piece." But my voice was small. The entire cut had been two thousand, but I couldn't bring myself to keep any. Not one penny. With nothing left to be done, I stood. "I'll let you know if I get another job." As I turned to walk away, Drew's voice called me back.

"Chris, we need to talk."

"'Bout what?" There was a pause as they shared a look.

"Whatever you got yourself into, get out," Gia said point blank. I didn't know what to say.

"What are you talking about?"

Dani took a breath. "Chris, we could have been arrested. Or even killed," she said levelly. "We shouldn't push our luck."

"I knew the risks and I thought you did too." Inside I was beginning to panic. I didn't know if I could theive without them. This was one of those times I wished I could tell them the truth; to save their lives, I had to risk them as well as my own.

"Whatever reason you have for this, it's not worth it." _It is! _my mind screemed. _Please don't do this!_

"We've talked this through a lot," Drew told me. "We're out." I was immobile, but I was pretty sure my lip was quivering. "I'm sorry."

"Please..."

"You told us you didn't want to make your dad's mistakes, but look at you. You're following step for step." Tear welled in my eyes. Did they think I didn't know that? If it weren't for that, I would feel _as _bad about all of this. "You can stop."

"No," I said after a minute. "I can't." And with that, I walked out.


	15. You'll Regret This

A/N: Hey, I started a comic version of Federal Custody on deviantArt. Check it out sometime. deviant. com /#/d4wa3kw just be warned that I am in no way an artist and that turned out VERY good compared to anything else I've ever drawn. -A

Chapter 15: You'll Regret This

A week passed. I hardly talked to any of my 'friends.' I locked myself in my room and left for school without going up to Dad's apartment for breakfast, and took my dinner to my room to eat. I knew he was getting worried, but I just didn't feel like dealing with him on top of everything else. I knew they were still looking for me.

I was sitting in my room listening to my music. "Rain, rain, go away. Come again another day, all the world is waiting for the sun (_Rain_ by Breaking Benjamin)." Then my phone buzzed and my heart dropped. Guess who it was.

With a sigh, I pushed myself up, grabbed my bag, and headed out. Unfortunately, Dad was coming down to leave for work. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"Gia's," I lied simply.

"Can it wait a few minutes?" I shrugged and leaned against the wall. "I need to know what's wrong with you."

"Nothing's wrong with me," I said, but my voice was too high-pitched. _Tell him! _the pesky conscience in the back of my head yelled. _He can help! But only if you TELL HIM!_ I ignored it.

"Bull," was his responce. "I have eyes, Chris. I told you before; whatever's going on, you can tell me. I-"

"You won't get mad. You've mentioned that before." He took a breath.

"Take it from someone who knows; trying to solve your problems on your own only makes more problems." My heart felt heavy. I, for the first time, could see how much strain he was under. Work, teenage daughter, wife-to-be. Between Peter, Sara, and I, I didn't know who was putting him under more stress. Then again, his stress from Peter was also because of me, so we know the answer to that one.

"I'll remember that," I promised. "Can I go now." He studied me for another moment before nodding.

"Behave."

"Always."

WC

"We have another job." Duh. Why else would I be here? When I didn't say anything, he passed me a folder. With a small sigh, I opened it. The layout of the museum looked very familiar. I knew I'd seen it somewhere.

I riffled through the other information. Guard scheduals, security system, the ususal. Finally, I got to the target. Where it was. At the very bottom was the photo of it. I stared blankly for a moment. Nausea struck my stomach and my breath became shallow.

"Please, no," begged. "Any painting but this." He smiled.

"This is a test. Everything is a test. I need to know if I can count on you to do your job."

"Please, don't do this to me." He said nothing. I shook my head. "I won't do it."

"You have no choice."

"I refuse. End of story." I turned around and started for the door.

"You're going to regret this, Chris." I ignored him and threw the file to the ground. The picture of _The Angel's Kiss_ fluttered to the ground behind me.

WC

_Get to the Bureau, _was my only thought as I rushed away from the warehouse. I had to warn them. What I had done was impuslive and stupid, but I wasn't going anywhere near that painting. Not after what it had done to my family. But I knew he meant what he said; that I would regret my decision.

I was crossing the street, only a few blocks from the Bureau. Out of nowhere, a woman's voice filled the air. "Look out! Behind you!" Instintivly, I spun around. A scream escaped my lips, then everything went black.


	16. Don't Cry Over Spilled Coffee

A/N: Bum bum bum! Sorry about the evil cliffhanger. And the shortness of the chapter. -A

Chapter 16

Don't Cry Over Spilled Coffee

Peter's POV

Neal was destracted. Actually, that's a bit of an understatement. His mind was a million miles away, no where near our case. It's been a while since I've seen him like this.

"Neal?" I said, starting to get concerned. He shook his head as if trying to keep himself awake and looked at me with wide eyes. I gestured to our case. "Any thoughts?" He bit his lip for a moment before answering.

"Sorry. I've been a bit out of it lately."

"I noticed." When he didn't respond, I went on. "Look, I get it. You've got a lot on your plate right now."

"Do you think I rushed into things?" This threw me off and he seemed to notice. "I mean, with Sara." Now I felt a little uncomfortable. Normally, it was Neal giving me the advise in this subject, but here he was asking me a question I wasn't sure if I could answer.

"Do you love her?" He nodded.

"You know I do. But I think Chris... doesn't approve."

"She does." Neal gave me a questioning look. "Remember when El and I were over so you guys could sort out the wedding details? Well, whenever you asked her oppinion, she went with what you guys liked most because she wanted it to be what _you _two wanted... And El told me they had something special planned. She wouldn't tell me what, but she said it was Chris' idea."

"She won't tell me what's going on. I know something's wrong, but I can't do anything unless I know _what_." He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"When she's ready, she'll tell you." Neal nodded.

A few minutes passed before he spoke again. "I'm going to go on a coffee run. Want anything?"

"Yeah." That was all I needed to say. By this point, he knew what coffee I liked. I watched him as he walked out, asking a few people if they wanted anything before headed for the elevator.

About ten minutes went by with me staring at the file I'd all but memorized. Then, ringing filled my office, but it wasn't my phone. It was Neal's; he'd left it sitting on my desk. There was no name, just a number. I should have let it go to voicemail, but I didn't. I picked it up on the third ring.

"Hello," a woman's voice said. "Is this the father of Christeen Caffrey?" Not exactly what I'd been expecting to hear.

"No, but I'm a friend of the family; I work with her father."

"Is he there now?"

"He went for coffee not long ago- What happened?"

"There was an accident. Christeen is here at Bellevue Hospital." I swallowed, the words sinking in.

"Thank you. I'll make sure I tell her father immedately." Then the line went dead. I started pacing the office, eyes glued to the doors into the bullpen. Finally, five minutes later, Neal came back. He caught my eye and I gave the two-finger point, like always. Knowing something was up, he passed out the coffee quickly and ran up.

"Peter, what's wrong?"

"We have to go. Now."

"What happened?" I looked him dead in the eye and knew he could tell something was very wrong.

"Chris is in the hospital." The two cups of coffee in his had fell to the floor and burst open.


	17. Suspect Behavior

Chapter 17: Suspect Behavior

Neal's POV

A car. A car had hit Chris. The nurse said it was lucky she survived; it easily could have been fatal. It wasn't long before El, then eventually Moz had joined Peter and I in the waiting room. Sara was still at work and probably hadn't checked her voice mail to find that their date would have to wait.

Waiting was torture. I'd never been good at it, but this was something else entirely. El sat next to me and I was vaguely aware that she held my hand. Then a woman walked over. She looked concerned, but I didn't know who she was.

"The nurse said you're the family of the girl who was hit by a car?" It was a simple statement, but the way she said it made it sound like a question. Regardless, I nodded.

"I'm Lucy. I'm so sorry for what happened." I was confused. Who was this woman? "I saw the car, but I didn't get her attention in time..." That's when I understood. "I called the police immediately," she said, as if looking for reassurance that she did the right thing.

"Thank you," I said sincerly.

"Is she okay?" Lucy asked. I nodded.

"She's in surgery now." There was a moment of silence.

"I should get going," she said quietly before walking away.

WC

It was nearly ten o'clock that night before we heard any more about Chris. A nurse came out with a clipboard and looked around. "Family of Christeen Caffrey?" We all stood. She looked around for a moment before the others sad down and she addressed me. "She's awake if you want to go see her." I nodded and followed her through the halls. She motioned to a door and I pushed my way in.

It was hard, seeing Chris like that. She was sitting up, but looked drowzy; they must have used strong pain killers. Her arm was in a sling and half her face was bruised. She smiled, or rather grimmaced, when she saw me. I didn't know what to say.

"Some day, huh?" she said, attempting to be light-hearted. I sat down next to the bed, but couldn't think of anything to say; not here, not now.

WC

Chris's POV

I knew Dad was holding out on me in the hospital. I wasn't so lucky when we got home. We'd hardly gotten through the door before the interrigation began. "Tell me what happend," he demanded. My eyes went a little wide.

"What?"

"Come on, Chris. I've heard what the police had to say about the crime." When I didn't speak, he went on. "A black car with tinted windows was idling at the corner where you were hit. They didn't move until you went to cross the street and they didn't slow down at all. They were trying to hit you and I think you know why."

"Well I don't!" I protested. But I did. Instead of going after my family for my refusal to steal the painting, he went after me. I hated lying to him, especially after deciding to finally come clean.

"Bull," he said blandly. "I know you, Chris. You don't think I know when you're lying?" _Clearly, no_, I thought.

"What's up with you?" I asked. "You've never acted all... parent-y!"

"Well, maybe it's time someone did because you're clearly not going to respond anything else!" His voice rose with almost every word. I drew back. Since when did he yell?

"Well, I didn't exactly have a very good role-model, did I?" As soon as I said it, I regreted it. He flinched like I'd slapped him. I knew that was a touch-y subject for him. Still, he recovered himself a second later.

"No, you didn't, but that doesn't mean you can act like a brat." This time, _he_ was the one who verbally slapped _me. _Against my will, a few tears rolled down my cheeks.

"And _that_ doesn't mean you can act like an ass!" There was a moment of silence.

"I'm done," he said. "You're grounded." My mouth fell open and more tears fell. I felt anger rising inside me.

"For what? Getting hit by a car?" I didn't give him a chance to answer. "_I hate you!_" And I ran out, slamming the door behind me.


	18. What Must be Done

A/N: This story is coming down to it's last handful of chapters. There's a poll on my profile of what I should write next. I've got a couple good ideas, and I can't deside. Help me out and vote for whichever. :) Hope you like this chapter. -A

Chapter 18: What Must be Done

I stormed out of the house, dispite the fact that I was _grounded. _Anger was boiling inside of me though, and I couldn't help it. My feet carried me away almost against my will. While I walked, my mind had time to replay what had just happened.

What was that whole thing about? He was treating me like a criminal. Well, I _am_, but it wasn't like he knew that. Not really. And calling me a brat? I had never begged for anything, never thrown a temeper tantrum when I didn't get what I wanted, never complained about the hand our family was dealt. But in retrospect, I probably shouldn't have called him an ass either.

It was at this point I realized where my feet had taken me. The Burke's household. Peter's car was missing, so I assumed he was at the office. After a moment's thought, I walked up to the door and rang the doorbell. A minute later, El opened the door.

"Chris," she said, surprised. "Shouldn't you be at home, resting?" I was aware of a tear sliding down my cheek.

"Can I come in?" She stepped aside and I made my way to the couch. She sat next to me, concern coloring her face, and put an arm around my shoulder like she'd done so many times while I lived with her and Peter.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly. Another tear escaped, but I didn't bother wiping it away.

"Dad and I got into a fight..." I said vaguely. She cocked her head to the side, waiting for me to continue. "He thought I knew why someone would hit me, and he started yelling at me." My breath was coming faster now and I felt angry again. El made a _shush_ing sound to try to calm me down.

"What did he say?" she asked.

"Well, he said that I was lying when I told him I didn't know anything. Then there was something about his parenting methods not working..." I trailed off. As harsh as he had been, I was worse.

"What?" She could tell that I was holding back. I sighed and let it out.

"I told him he was a bad role-model." When she didn't say anything, I went on. "That's a really touchy subject for him. He always worries that his criminal-ness was bad for me." Which, in a way, it was; you won't catch me saying that out loud.

"Then what happened?" she pressed.

"Dad called me a brat, so I called him an ass and he grounded me." I could feel her tension. She knew that this was the big problem of out fight. My next words were near-silent. "I told him I hated him." El wrapped me in a hug.

"Honey, Neal knows you don't hate him. You were both upset and said things you didn't mean. It'll get better," she promised. I nodded, hoping she was right. We sat there in silence for a few moments. My mind was reeling.

I couldn't take any of this any more. It was maddening. Too many secrets; too many lies. It was tearing my family apart. We were all ready to burst at the seams. There seemed like only one thing that could be done. I didn't like it, but it was the only way I could fix what I'd broken. I had to-

I was pulled from my thoughts by my phone buzzing in my pocket. It was a text message. _One month from today. 3 P.M. Don't be late._ Vile rose in the back of my throat. He had a lot of nerve, pulling something like that after having me _run over by a car!_ This only fueled the flames that had started burning inside me.

Standing ubruptly, I headed for the door. "I've got something I have to do." And I walked out. It was time to live up to my actions. I, Christeen Caffrey- daughter of Neal Caffrey, master criminal- was going to confess to the FBI the crime I'd committed.


	19. I Confess

A/N: I would first like to say I am extremely sorry for the lack of updates for the past three or so months. I would be lying if I said I was busy; I was just a bit apathetic. Then there was NaNoWriMo in November... and school and other personal crap and yeah. Lack of White Collar + personal crap = lack of updates... xD To add insult to injury so to speak, this isn't even a new chapter. I didn't really like this chapter before, so I decided to rewrite it, so it's better now. I hope you can forgive me for being lazy, and I hope you like the newly refurbished chapter 19 :)

* * *

><p>Chapter 19: I Confess<p>

I walked slowly as I headed for the FBI. Despite the situation, I was calm. Dad's warning about me getting into a life of crime rung in my ears. _You will get no such luxuary._ They might not be able to make a deal, even if I give them Dearling. Another thought crossed my mind. Dad didn't want me to be like he was. As soon as he found out, he'd be completely disapointed. That weighed heavily on my heart. It was like disapointing Peter (which I realized would also happen).

Then I remembered I hadn't robbed the gallery alone. "Shit," I muttered, pulling my phone out. _You know nothing._ That was as specific as I could get. After a moment's consideration, I added,_Delete this immediately._ With that, I pressed 'send.' In just a moment, Dani, Sam, Gia, and Drew would know something was going down.

The federal building was in sight when my phone rang. It was Drew. Sighing, I answered. "What?"

"What's the text about?" he asked.

"Nothing. You'll get it soon enough." My voice was monotone, hollow. "I'm kinda busy-"

"Chris, I'm sorry, but I don't think this is working out." My eyes grew wide.

Baffled, I asked, "What? Are you breaking up with me?" Drew sighed. "Over the _phone_?" A tear fell onto my cheek.

"I'm sorry-" I sniffled and chuckled a bit, more tears coming down.

"You know what?" I told him. "Fine. Whatever."

"Chris-"

"See you later," I said before hanging up. I wanted to scream. My hand tightened around the phone. With a grunt of frustration, I chucked the it at the wall over a dumpster (it was just a burner). It broke into little pieces before falling in with the other garbage. People stared at me like I was nuts, but no one said anything. After a couple minutes, I recollected myself and continued towards the federal building.

I had planned to walk in there with my head held high and calmly tell Peter everything, accepting whatever punishment befell me like a grown-up. I wasn't dumb; I knew this would end up pretty bad for me. I also knew I had to set things right before it was entirely too late.

You know how, when people die, they say they can see their lives flashing before their eyes? Well, on the elevator up, I kinda started getting that. A lot of memories played through my mind in fast forward. The day I saw Dad for the first time in years, followed by getting kicked out of home and moving in with him. Meeting Peter and Sara and El and June and everyone else for the first time. The case I somehow managed to get myself involved in. _That_ night, the one where the warehouse went up in flames, my dad caught inside, or so we thought. That dark year without him, when I lived with the Burkes. Dad walking back into my life yet again and finally finishing the case, almost dying in the process. Everything after that was a blur of mistakes I managed to make in the past couple months alone.

I guess you could say I had an epiphany. I finally realized how stupid I had been, not telling Peter and Dad what was going on from the very beginning. What had I been thinking? I thought by doing what the bad guy wanted, I would be protecting them, but I wasn't. I was playing with fire the entire time, so convinced that I could handle it. But I couldn't. In the end, the whole thing turned around to bite me in the ass, and that fire I thought I could control ended up burning everyone I thought I was protecting. I couldn't see beyond my hubris, my conviction that I was invincible. I was balanced precariously on the highest pedestal my over-inflated ego could find, and you know what they say; the higher they are, the harder they fall. And, man, was I falling hard.

Suddenly, I felt like a lost, scared little kid, in way over my head. My face was wet with tears, by breath coming in strangled gasps. I was already on floor nineteen. It dawned on me that I hadn't spoken to my dad since I told him I hated him. Did he think I meant it?

I took a deep breath as I wiped the tears away. I was feeling weak-kneed. There was a soft ding as the elevator shuddered to a halt and the doors slid open. Holding back a flood, I took the few unstable steps out into the lobby type thing.

On the other side of the glass doors, agents bustled from here to there or sat at their desks, dull looks plastered in place. Peter and my dad sat in the former's office and my heart sank into my shoes as I took the first dreaded steps.

As I crossed the bull pen slowly, I heard what I hardly registered to be Diana's voice calling out to me, but I ignored her. By this point, Peter noticed me and said something to my dad, who, in turn, stiffened and glanced over his shoulder. I looked at the floor, unable to meet his eyes.

I was at the top of the stairs, then in front of Peter's door. I could feel their eyes burning holes into my forehead. With a trembling hand, I opened the door agonizingly slow. Peter mumbled something that I figured was a greeting, but I didn't return it as I lowered myself into the seat next to dad. There was silence.

"Is there something you needed," Peter finally asked. I stared at my lap, hands still shaking rather violently. "Chris?" I felt a tear roll down my cheek and silently swore at myself.

Then Dad's hand was on my shoulder. "What's wrong?" I took a ragged breath. How did I even begin?

"I... I did something. Something-" My voice caught in my throat and I practically burst into tears. "Somethin... I... I shouldn't... have done." I began to hiccup. I was vaguely aware of the fact that Peter and Dad shared a concerned and slightly suspicious look.

"Is this about Drew?" Dad asked, the name tearing through me like a knife. "Did you-"

"No!" I wailed, knowing what he was getting at. I forced my breathing to even out as I dabbed at my eyes with my sleeve. "I did something... illegal." The word squeaked out before I could change my mind. Once more, I could feel their eyes cutting through me, the silence palpable. I wondered if I looked as ashamed as I felt. After an eternity of deafening silence, Peter spoke.

"What did you do?" Some how, his voice sounded so calm and even, though I could imagine the disappointed look he was no-doubt wearing. Dad's hand gripped my shoulder uncomfortably tight. "Chris?"

It took me a moment to find my voice. "I stole that painting..." I lifted my head and looked into his eyes. "It was me. I stole it. Go ahead; arrest me." No one moved.


End file.
